An Isle By Any Other Name
by PetruchioVerona
Summary: First in a series of short stories connecting the Tortall 'verse and the Emelan 'verse. Third Ship Kisubo has made landfall at these islands for the first time. Their newest crewmember Daja is thrilled to find out that the islands are known for their beautiful copper. Set well before the luarin invasion


What if Emelan & the Pebbled Sea were on the same map as Tortall and the related islands? Daja & the Kisubos are not mine, and neither are the Copper Isles and the raka words I used.

Details from the Trickster books, and from Sandry's Book & Daja's Book. One quote was taken directly from Sandry's Book, from Daja's first experience drawing gold wire.

"_What was that country, in the southwest? They had dropped anchor for two scant days, before her mother decided that there were too many warring tribes for safe trading. She couldn't remember the name, but she had helped to log the copper jewelry they got in those two days… It had been her first landfall with the ship, and the jewelry was beautiful. Her mother had worn a brooch from that cargo until the ship went down." (Sandry's Book)_

Though they had been at sea for almost three straight weeks, Daja Kisubo could not be more pleased with her current journey. Her first journey on Third Ship Kisubo! All her life she had been preparing for this – and here it was. The weather had held fair, or as fair as could be expected, with only a few squalls and none that blew them off course.

The sea air filled her nose and lungs, but now, for the first time since stepping aboard, there were new smells. Earth and land-animals. The islands that had been but a smudge on the horizon two days ago were now soaring above them, with thickly wooded highlands and what looked like very steamy jungles closer to the coast.

Leaning out from her perch on the rigging, she saw that the harbor they were pulling into was a large crescent shape – a safe anchorage for sure, even during winter storms. She gazed over the rising hills of the city. Like banks of oars, the houses seemed to be in tiers, growing in size and obvious wealth from the harbor up to a distant palace with beautiful red sandstone walls. The lesser houses were rough bricks and gray sandstone, while the greater gleamed with stucco in pinks and milky whites.

As Third Ship Kisubo glided into the harbor moorings, Daja reviewed what she knew of these islands. They were on the biggest, the capital island – what was the name? It started with an 'R', she was sure of that.

More importantly, she reviewed the currency. The smallest coins were _gigits_ – 10 copper to 1 silver, with 5 silver _gigits_ to a copper _lan_; 5 copper _lans _to silver, 10 silver to gold. She had been reviewing this only last night with Uneny, as this was the first time any Kisubo ship had landed here.

She knew this island was known for spices, some local butterflies that lived nowhere else, and for its abundance of copper and the excellent craftsmanship. She hoped she could see those craftsmen. Surely it would be allowed to see the _lugshas_ here, if they were so world-renowned!

As a new crewmember, she did not get to wander very far out of range of the ship. She was no _gilav_, to sell the cargo they held to nobles, nor a _wirok_, to buy necessities for the return journey.

She could, however, wander the dock area, taking in the sights and smells. The people around her were quite a sight. Daja did not feel out of place as a black Trader here – the locals were a lighter brown, but there was a variety of color all the same. There were foreigners, from even farther away than the Pebbled Sea, who added light whites, creamy golds, and almost blue-blacks to the mix.

The temples here were also quite a sight. Close to the docks, she saw a statue of a woman with the oddest pattern on her skin. Large blotches of light brown surrounded by black outlines stood out all over the goddess' body. What struck Daja even more was the facial expression they had chosen to give her – it seemed the very epitome of mischief and cunning, and yet there was an undercurrent of ferocity and unpredictability. Daja could not guess what this goddess represented to the locals, but she was well-favored. The shrine was liberally adorned with flowers, fruits, buttons, and shiny bits of rock.

At last Daja's curiosity got the best of her, and she slipped away from her crew to find the lugsha shops. Just a few minutes surely couldn't hurt. The shops were clearly marked, and many passers-by stared just as much as Daja did. Some workers hammered sheets of metal cherry-red from the fire; some pressed marks and designs into finished pieces. Still others worked hard at pumping bellows, changing dull red and orange fires to white heats.

Looking at the darkening sky, she knew she had to hurry to make it back to the ship tonight. Turning back down the row of shops, she was caught by movement in the corner of her eye. It was a goldsmith's shop, with a lone smith inside. Daja crept inside, quieter than a ship's mouse (not that mice were truly quiet, as she had quickly learned). The shop was dark inside. Only the smith was visible,her body outlined in forge fire. With tongs she lifted a bottle from the coals. Turning until she held the bottle over a mold, she titled it. Living fire poured out in a yellow-white stream that sparkled and glittered as it fell.

Daja felt her breath catch in her throat. The smith started, and made to turn to look. Daja darted out of the shop and almost ran back down the hill to the docks. Shame felt as hot as the smiths' fires – she had spent so much time drooling over _lugsha_ – what kind of Trader was she?

Back on the ship, Daja calmed herself with laboring with the crew. She practiced her knots. She helped polish the brasswork. She slept fitful dreams of glittering fire and ruddy copper.

The next morning, the _gilav_ was off to conclude her trades with the richer nobles. Some of the crew would take to the streets, looking for lesser-known curiosities to add to the cargo. Daja was with her mother today, following and observing her bargaining.

They had stopped at a small street jeweler around midday when she heard the roar. She knew that sound – all Traders learned to be wary. There were riots in the city, or nearby. She tugged on her mother's sleeve. She had just finished a bargain – several items, including a copper fish brooch she was already pinning to her tunic.

Daja's mother looked up warily. The roar wasn't growing louder, but it wasn't fading either. Casually, she leaned towards the shopkeeper. "Peaceful around these parts, is it?"

The woman looked uncomfortable. "Just family feuds, _duani_. Young hotheads, I'm sure. Have a good day." She checked that her rolling cart was secure and walked off.

Daja's mother frowned. Daja saw the furrowed brow and knew that her mother did not believe this was just hotheads. They returned to the ship quickly and passed on their worries. The other senior crew members felt the same. Daja's uncle added a bit of gossip he'd heard – that there were two tribes that had been at war in this very capital city for years. It ranged into the lowland jungles and over the hills, but the families had been at it for years.

The _gilav_ shook her head at that. "We won't risk staying here then. We made a fine cargo – we'll log it as we sail. It's a shame, but I won't put all Third Ship Kisubo in danger for some copper trinkets."

As they set sail, Daja took a long last look at the harbor. She still couldn't see the riots, even as she felt the tension in the air. It was a shame they wouldn't return.

Something flashed in the sun as they glided out of the harbor again – another goddess statue. Her dress was carved to look as if it were still aflame and in motion. She had a strong warrior pose, a deadly-looking sword in her grip. And yet, she was beautiful – the most beautiful lady Daja thought she had ever seen. As the ship glided away, the statue gleamed. It was that ruddy copper these isles were so famed for. Daja stared hungrily at it until she was called off to another task with the crew.

She never had remembered the name of the Islands, and she supposed it didn't matter now. But she knew she would remember them all the same, these isles with their exquisite copper.

Hmm. Copper Isles. That was as good a name as any, right?

_Please review or comment! Only my second fic with Tamora's characters. I have a couple more ideas to play around with connecting Emelan with Tortall, so all criticisms and/or encouragements are appreciated!_


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